


Naples

by classictwilight



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 20:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classictwilight/pseuds/classictwilight
Summary: Gabby spends another evening alone





	Naples

Gabby dangled the half empty bottle of vodka from her finger tips; it brushed gently against the plush carpet. Another mission. Another lavish hotel room. Another night alone. Ill- Kuriakin- she quickly corrected herself and Solo were off on another joint recon mission. She pulled the bottle up for a long draw. At least it was still cold, the air was sweltering even with the widows thrown open. No breeze to share her restlessness, odd as they were stationed near Naples, the air by the sea was so rarely still. The only sound was the faint lap of waves against the beach below – even the gulls were quite.

With a small effort she heaved herself off the couch and made her way out to the balcony which blessedly was made of marble and most important of all –cool. She lay down on her back and sighed with pleasure to feel the cool stone on her back. Thankfully Waverly had left her alone and in charge of this trip’s wardrobe and she had made the most of it before they left London. Her selection of lingerie for this trip was exquisite if she said so herself. With a surge of annoyance she sat up reaching for the bottle again. It seemed as if Illya knew she was trying to tempt him, he seemed to be going out of his way more than usual to avoid being left alone with her which since they were sharing a room was quite the feat. The set she had on currently was elegant, black with lillys embroidered in gold and silver thread – it was too hot to have anything else on and she liked the way it shimmered faintly in the near darkness. With a sigh she slumped back to the cool of the stone.

They had kissed a few times – nights when the mission required them both to dip into the cups. One night he had her backed up against the wall for a brief moment just outside their hotel room door. It had taken hours of tossing for the heat inside to die back. Despite her hopes it never went further than that or hadn’t yet. She was after changing that. Gaby knew that in he own way Solo was rooting for her and had tried as well to nudge Illya in her direction. Damn pig headed Russian. The man had more baggage than an entire caravan on the Silk Road. _Issues_ , Gabby hissed the word out. She had them too, maybe that is why she wanted him so badly? They had the common misfortune of growing up behind the iron curtain. Her father was a nazi scientist and his was sent to the Gulag. Nails tapped the bottle in a half rhythmic fashion. They both knew loss and the security of pushing people away.

Distantly the church bells chimed- once. One A.M and they still weren’t back- that meant things were going well. Solo no doubt was winning at poker loosening tongues with easy charm and smooth lies. Illya would be sitting back keeping an eye on proceedings, waiting for Solo’s signal to move. She’d have her bottle done by then. The first mission he had saved her, the fifth she had saved him with a quick smile and some sweet nothings to distract his attacker before she calmly put a bullet between his eyes. The ease of it unnerved her.

When they got back to their room she had showered first and flopped into bed with weary exhaustion while he took his turn with the shower. At some point she awoke with a start- and the dawning realization that Illya was in bed with her. Not just in bed, but curled around her protectively, his left arm over her waist while his right had found its way to be her pillow. He radiated warmth and she could feel his chest gently move in and out with each breath. Hesitant to accidently wake him and break the spell Gabby laid still and tried to reason out what would have caused him to crawl in with her. As a rule they slept in separate beds – fake wedding rings be damned. She resettled her head and a moment later the arm around her waist flexed pulling her closer. Gabby froze as she felt Illya sigh and then in a voice thick with sleep mummer: stay- a sigh- please. Once the shock wore off she snuggled in, might as well make the most of it Gabby thought as she drifted back to sleep. By the time she woke up the next morning Illya had already left for the first of the day’s stakeouts. Beneath the crushing disappointment she still allowed herself to lay back and hum as a smile worked away across her face. It’s not happened again and he’s never mentioned it so neither has she, but she thinks of it often.

She tips the bottle back again, the stars above are now fuzzy and her teeth tingle as Gabby slips willingly into the floaty stage of drunk. The stone under her back no longer feels so hard. It’s his eyes she finds endlessly fascinating. After a night of particularly heavy drinking she told Solo she wanted to drown in them – like the ocean after a storm. He laughed softly and patted her back in knowing sympathy. She does not remember this. The bottle is nearly empty now and the clock so far away is striking again, she thinks maybe for three this time. Even the sea seems to have quieted down. She sighs deeply as if to expel her thoughts and stretches, not noticing that the bottle has rolled over to the banister. It stops with a soft clink. She thinks she can make out the big dipper and maybe Pegasus too. She wonders if Illya can ride. A knight or Hercules, she giggles.

Gabby does not hear the soft click of the lock in the suite door. Unaware of Illya entering the rooms quietly seemingly surprised at the darkness within. Normally she is there in the bright to greet him with biting words and unsteady legs. After seeing her bed empty his alarm seems to grow as he looks around, eyes finally falling on the open doors of the balcony. With hesitant steps he makes his way over, freezing when he sees her hair spread dark over the white of the marble. His eyes widen was they travel over her. His breath might catch too. With a quiet groan he rubs his hands together as he kneels beside her. It takes a few moments for him to carefully gather her into his arms bridal style, all the while muttering in Russian. He sighs when he sees the bottle by the banister. With care not to wake her Illya tucks her into bed. He is blushing terribly- she would have found his pink ears endearing. He leaves and returns a moment later setting an already sweating glass of water on the bedside table. He closes his eyes in an internal struggle then leans over and gently presses his lips to her forehead and whispers; _you’re going to be the death of me_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This is the first I've written in ages- any errors are my own. Please let me know what you think and feel free to add more tags!


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